


A gifted bear and a life saved

by Feelingsinwinter



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Bucky Bear - Freeform, Car Accident, M/M, Mention of blood, Minor Injuries, Weird, car crash, some kind of magic, tony's birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelingsinwinter/pseuds/Feelingsinwinter
Summary: After a birthday party, Tony's needed for his company and has to leave. On his way to take the plane when something bad happens.





	A gifted bear and a life saved

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! \o
> 
> Like the other time for Bucky's Birthday, here is my small participation for Tony's. It's not as happy and cute and fluffy as the one I wrote before but I really, really like it. I hope you will like it too!

When Tony came back to consciousness, the sky was turning dark and the temperature had dropped. 

Unless it was him.

His arm was sending dull waves of pain but it was nothing in comparison to every intake of breath. It was a struggle, even to breathe. He’d recognize broken ribs anytime.

The feeling of split glass against his back was new though, even if he had to face it a few times. Never like that.

He wasn’t sure he liked it.

Fuck but his thoughts were a mess and so slow. It was hard to keep two coherent thoughts together and even more if he wanted to make sense of them. 

Focusing was a bitch, too.

Concussion was logical though.

At least he could still find logic somewhere. Unfortunately, he couldn’t say the same about the world around him. 

It was upside down. 

Which, if he tried to focus on it for too long, made his nausea worse.

A glance to the side made him sigh. His car was wrecked. And so was his phone near his left hand. The memory of tumbling from the crushed window and fumbling blindly for his phone came back to him. The actual crash itself was still inaccessible though. 

He remembered calling 911, somehow managing with shaky, bloody fingers to type the number and mumbling his location before passing out. 

With too much difficulty for it to be reassuring, he reached again for his phone, his cold fingers running on the smooth surface but the device stayed unresponsive. Dead, too. 

It was impossible to know if someone had heard him, if they managed to track his phone down and found his location. The rapidly darkening sky wasn’t good either. It meant colder temperature and also that a few hours had passed without anyone finding him. 

Of course he had to use one of those lonely road in the middle of nowhere to crash his fucking car. The piece of concrete probably didn’t see more than a few cars per day and considering the hour probably none before the next day. Which might rise on Tony’s cold, dead body.

Shaking the thought out and fighting against the black around the edges of his vision, Tony swallowed, wincing against the taste of blood and the dryness. 

Gathering his energy, he tried to get up but the small motion only raised a wave of pain that left him gasping for air and made the dark edges gaining more space before swallowing him.

 

*******

 

At first he thought the cold had awaken him. But no, cold would have kept him asleep; he remembered studying that before, how all the French troops under Napoleon's command had died in the snowbanks. The author had painted a vivid picture of how the cold would keep him down and leading him to a sweet, painless death. 

Something soft stroked his forehead and someone gently called his name. 

Relief washed through him. Help had found him, help had come. 

He fought with all he had to open his eyes and had to wait before his eyes could focus enough to make sense of the world.

He was alone. 

And there was no rushing sound of the paramedics, not even the lights of the beacons slaying the night.

The warm hope that had blossomed in his chest faded away, making him only more conscious of the cold. 

After longs seconds of fighting to manage it, his fingers rubbed weakly against his chest. The feedback of sensation wasn’t fabulous, his fingertips were numb, but he felt what was his jacket. It held loosely on him as if someone had thrown it clumsily around him and tried to tuck him in. 

His first attempt to speak fell flat, only managing to get out a low moan conveying more pain than interrogation.

“Sssh Tony, it’s ok. Don’t move.”

Once again, he felt something soft soothing his forehead, discarding strands covered in dry blood. 

It felt tiny, nothing like a grown-up hand but it was all he had and he didn’t care who was with him as long as he wasn’t alone. 

Looking up, toward where the person should be he found nothing. Until a small rustle happened near his ear and something leaned toward him.

Small, rounds, white eyes peered at him. In the middle of a stuffed bear head. A Bucky Bear head.

And it looked concerned. The end of the paws were stained by blood, tiny little pieces of glass stuck in the fibers of the plushie. 

Tony couldn’t speak but it didn’t kept him from thinking. Hallucinations. He was having hallucinations. And that wasn’t good, was it? 

He was too tired to feel afraid, though, so there was that. 

But hallucinations can’t move things, can they? 

The feeling of the soft material against his forehead, petting him soothingly was nice. He made a sound, deep in his throat, and closed his eyes. It was so good, he just… wanted to sleep a bit. Better concentrate on the soft stroking than the distant pain ringing through his body. 

A sharp tug on his hair made him open his eyes.

“Nope, not on my watch kid. You need to stay awake.”

Tony tried to glare at it but found it quite difficult, being upside down and all. He was probably more cross-eyeing it than anything. 

“Better angry than dead, buddy. Not that I know anything about being dead but whatever. Doesn’t sound nice so we’ll keep you awake and alive, what do you think?”

If he had find the strength to, Tony would’ve hummed. 

He didn’t care.

Dead, not dead, he was dead-tired. Ah! Bad joke, even for him.

Bucky was going to freak out like mad. He had been so fucking scared, weirdly enough. Couldn’t say why or how but the soldier had felt as if something bad was about to happen. 

That was the kind of thing Tony couldn’t quite take as an excuse, especially not when Pepper was waiting for him and he had to take a plane-

The sharp tug came back with a vengeance and Tony found in himself the strength to growl.

“Yeap, keep that thought in mind.” The bear smirked.

And how the fuck a fucking stuffed animal could sound like it was fucking smirking? What even was this fucked up situation? Crappy hallucinations. Why did his have to be that kind of assholes. Why not those nice, soft hallucinations they kept showing in movies. 

“Stop moving,” scolded the bear, trudging ridiculously around Tony’s body to tuck him back in. It lifted the jacket until the collar was under Tony’s chin. It pushed softly against his arms, struggling against the weight until he managed to slip it back under the meager warmth the jacket was dispensing. “Listen, it’s been a few hours only, they might come sooner rather than later.”

Without trying to reach out of the small cover he was wrapped in, Tony looked pointedly at his smashed, dead phone before looking at the bear.

“Worked?” he croaked out.

His throat was sore and dry, speaking only made him more conscious of it. It was itching. He swallowed, trying to sooth it. Coughing right now wasn’t a good idea. No sir.

The bear came to him, his small muzzle scrunched up in worry. It leaned toward him, rubbing its soft fur against his face. It spread more blood on his face, smearing it across the black material of its Domino Mask. 

Without considering it, Tony reached to tug it against him and hug it properly but hot pain flared in his shoulder and he dropped it. 

“Thanks,” he said hoarsely. 

The bear sat across from his head, its leg pressing gently on Tony’s ear, a comforting presence. 

It didn’t matter if it was a product of his dying mind. It was nice. 

The front paw came back against his forehead, carding gently through his hair.

“It worked,” said Bucky-bear gently. “I heard them after you passed out. They had your location before your phone died. They’re coming,” it whispered softly. “They won’t let you down. You know, those like me aren’t common thing.”

Turning his head toward the bear, Tony saw it looking at him and… it was hard to say how he knew it but he could almost feel the fondness, the kindness.

He felt alone despite being with something, even something unreal. Alone and cold. 

He nuzzled tiredly at the stuffed body, it was so soft. And kind of slightly warm?

The bear chuckled.

“I know you think I’m not real, but listen,” it said. 

And it started telling him a story. A story about someone loving someone else so deeply, their love kind of spill out. Sometimes it was in small things, the kind you can’t see, can’t realize. A bit of luck here, a bit of something else there. Other times, it all but poured into something they’re invested so much it kind of become a portrayal. A living portrayal, with its own personality, its own purpose but only one goal. Protect. 

The bear fell silent and Tony scoffed, wincing and moaning when his ribs protested. Loudly.

“Shame Bucky didn’t offered me a knife. Or a still working phone,” he said.

The bear snorted and patted his forehead: “Yeah, well, I’m having some difficulties seeing the purpose of a knife here. And a working phone couldn’t do much for you now, could it?”

Tony avoided his eyes, looking at the sky made of stars and trees looking over them, indifferents at the scene at their feet. 

“I could’ve say goodbye.”

His body was heavy and he was tired, the pain was everywhere and his ribs made breathing such a difficulty. It was a fight of every second to keep breathing, to keep his eyes open, he had to clawed at his consciousness to remain awake and aware. 

The soft paw patted at his forehead, then at his cheek.

“You won’t die, Tony. Not under my watch.”

What could a bear do against a car accident?

 

*******

 

Blaring sirens made him come back to the world slightly faster than the few previous times. Beacons were painting the sky and the indifferent trees in red and blue.

Something was resting on his chest, paramedics were talking to him, asking questions, pressing him and taking measure. His pulse, his wounds, whatever.

Didn’t matter.

Tucked against his chest, smeared in blood and dirt, was the Bucky-bear, snuggled under the jacket still wrapped around him.

Tony clutched tightly at it, ignoring the sharp pain shooting from his shoulder, arm, body.

He lost consciousness again, feeling safe and warm.

 

*******

 

His trip to the hospital wasn’t a fun one. But when was it ever, really?

Worried wasn’t even beginning to express the state Bucky was when he first came in, looking white as a sheet, eyes too big in his face and shaking hands. 

He was terrified.

Bucky had rushed in and didn’t leave Tony’s bedside until he was forced to. 

A small hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder. He’d dozed off in the chair. Again.

“He needs the rest, Mr. Barnes. And so do you. You can’t take care of him, unless you take care of yourself.”

It wasn’t even the firm and set line of her lips, or the way she looked at Bucky with determined eyes, but the gentleness and the way her fingers were holding him solidly. She was like an anchor. She smiled, sadly but with that same kindness she had shown him since her colleagues had told her they couldn’t find a way to push him out.

They had tried firm and bitter, they had tried gentleness and the kind of sweet tone they used for older people or kids. One even burst in the room and tried to scare him out. Only this one had been able to make it stick.

“He’ll be there for you tomorrow,” she had said.

_ I’ll make sure of it _ went unsaid but even Tony heard it. Bucky nodded numbly, clutching the bloody bear to his chest. 

With unsteady legs, he left the room, holding on the stuffed animal like his life depended on it. Or maybe was that Tony’s life depended on it.

Stuck in a twilight state, Tony had overheard Bucky marveling at the coincidence. Upside down in the car, slowly bleeding out, Tony had managed to get hold of the bear and hold it fast to him. It was amazing. A miracle. Or something.

The paramedics had given him the bear and since then Bucky had been carrying it around with him the entire time. He couldn’t seem to stop rubbing the fur, thicker at some places where the blood had dried, feeling its weight, its presence. 

Tony, on the other hand, rather missed it, once it was gone.

 

*******

 

“I see you found my friend,” Tony had croaked out.

And Bucky had burst into tears, hugging the bear so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t tear it.

Somewhere, among the tears, Bucky managed to bubble a weak “told you so” before he was doubling over, ugly sobbing wrecking his body. He only calmed down enough to blow his nose when Tony asked to hold his hand. And Bucky did it, just aware enough to not squeeze too hard. 

Tony stroked a thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand, soothing him, whispering sweet nothings, repeating that he was fine now. 

Tony was not fine. He kept waking up feeling cold and alone, fear clawing at his insides until he realized he’s not on the road anymore. But then, the bear isn’t there either and if he doesn’t feel cold anymore, he still feels alone.

When Bucky had left the room, leaving behind him the Bucky-bear  for the first time, Tony had stared at it but didn’t engage. 

What if… well, there was no “what if”, was it? Talking stuffed animals didn’t exist, talking animals didn’t either. It was probably only the blood-loss or the concussions speaking, a hallucination. Something he created to keep him occupied, alive, whatever.

With a deep sigh, Tony left the bear on its own and stared at the ceiling. He fell asleep.

 

*******

 

Coming back home was a relief. The smell, the warmth… and the people, he had missed it so much. They all visited him, every day, if they had the time. He only was alone when the visiting time had ended. 

Alone with a silent Bucky-Bear stained in blood.

The Avengers threw a party to celebrate his recovering and his return. They were all careful, mindful of his injuries, oddly gentle in their usual roughhousing. He is hugged and touched and petted and he doesn’t feel cold, doesn’t feel alone. 

But the silent bear weighed heavily on him.

Later, once the party was over and everyone had headed back to their own floors, Tony limped to his room, clutching his bear to his chest. Feeling a small warmth curling close to his heart. 

Sitting at the foot of the bed, thankful for the pain-killers, he looked down at the bear. It was kinda a wreck, with all the blood everywhere, the paws, the head, the body. Nothing has been spared. 

He couldn’t bring himself, before, to ask Bucky to wash it. Somewhere, deep down, he was afraid. Afraid running it through the laundry might kill it. But there was nothing to kill, was there?

“I probably should wash you, shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know, kid,” drawled the bear, “do I look like I enjoy being covered in the blood of the one I’ve been gifted too?”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](http://feelingsinwinter.tumblr.com)!


End file.
